


thunderstorms

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: Sportsfest 2018 [3]
Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Sportsfest 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 16:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15123167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: Jin stares at Tsukushi. He’s barely broken a sweat, and he’s got his mouth set in a line that Jin could have drawn with his eyes closed. He grins, and then bursts out laughing. It’s a good laugh, a belly laugh that makes his sides hurt and warms his heart all at once.At a World Cup match, after the third time you walked by looking lost.





	thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sportsfest 2018 Bonus Round 1: Time and Place | [originally posted here](https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/7464.html?thread=292904#cmt292904)

Whenever Jin had allowed himself to daydream about how they’d meet again, it had always been with the sound of rain in the background, rain on the pavement and the air thick with the smell of damp earth and Tsukushi’s hand in his. The image in his mind, he realised now, was not unlike how they had first collided into each other’s lives. Jin, always two steps ahead. Tsukushi, the thunder to his lightning. All around, the storm rising.

The part with the rain: that’s come true, at least.

“Kazama-kun! There you are!”

Tsukushi’s sprinting across the carpark towards him, never mind the wet ground and the security officer at his heels. He’s reaching into his backpack for an umbrella, and he’s two seconds away from falling over his own feet, but he gets it together because they are not seventeen and clumsy anymore, and Jin is gaping as he stands and blinks the rain out of his eyes.

“Tsukushi!”

The security officer screeches to a halt and gives Jin an awkward bow. “Kazama-san, this… man… walked past me a few times looking lost, and he said he was a friend of yours, but when I told him fans weren’t allowed in this part of the stadium he just pushed past me and—”

Jin stares at Tsukushi. He’s barely broken a sweat, and he’s got his mouth set in a line that Jin could have drawn with his eyes closed. He grins, and then bursts out laughing. It’s a good laugh, a belly laugh that makes his sides hurt and warms his heart all at once. The kind of laugh he’s missed.

“It’s not your fault,” he tells the guard, walking up to sling an arm round Tsukushi. “When this guy wants to run, no one has a _hope_ of catching up to him. He really is my friend, so it’s fine.”

The guard retreats with one last doubtful look at Tsukushi, who turns to Jin now with an apologetic blush. “I’m sorry if I made any trouble for you, Kazama-kun.”

Jin smiles. “I’m sorry you had to fight the security to see me.”

“You weren’t answering your phone, so I thought I had to do something…”

Tsukushi’s voice trails off as Jin throws his other arm round him and buries his face into his neck, for Tsukushi has grown since they last met, and the umbrella clatters onto the asphalt.

“You should go indoors,” Tsukushi says, soft and earnest into Jin’s ear. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“Probably doesn’t matter. After how I played today, I’ll be benched next match,” Jin mumbles.

He’s still smiling, the curve of his mouth digging into Tsukushi’s shoulder, and that’s how he feels it stiffen as Tsukushi peels away from him, holds him at arm’s length. “How will you come off the bench if you’re sick?” 

Jin opens his mouth to make a witty retort, but nothing comes out. Nothing comes out because Tsukushi’s face is serious and Jin knows this isn’t a joke.

He looks at Tsukushi, waiting wide-eyed for him to say something. He’s been waiting a long time. He’s been waiting since Jin left, since Japan qualified for this World Cup, since that first whistle blew, and he has been patient, more patient than Jin could have been. Heels dug in. _The thunder to his lightning._ Jin knows how to be flashy, but he’d never learned the art of resonance.

“You’re right. I can’t,” says Jin, and it is when his smile slips that Tsukushi’s breaks out across his face, radiant, and they are their old selves again. They are no longer seventeen and clumsy. They are seventeen and Jin remembers what it is like to run for his life, to love the game, to _love_ —

Tsukushi picks up his fallen umbrella, raises it to shelter them both.

“I’ll come with you,” he says, and takes Jin’s hand.


End file.
